


Icarus

by moji964



Category: Hermitcraft, Hermitcraft RPF
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hermitcraft - Freeform, How Do I Tag, I feel like by the third chapter is a good time to say: this is a permadeath au, It’s a mystery, Minecraft, Mumbo goes nonverbal for a bit, PTSD? PTSD, Permadeath, Sorry if it’s inaccurate- I’m pulling from my own experience., Theres both! :D, Winged Grian, Winged!Grian, basically all the hermits, i just don’t name them all, if I’m wrong please tell me so I can edit these tags, probably, season 6, surprise- now theres a piano, tw: panic attack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-01-21 02:54:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21292439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moji964/pseuds/moji964
Summary: Grian flies a little too close to the sky.Rated Teen for a panic attack happening mid-fic.
Comments: 23
Kudos: 264





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There is a panic attack during this. Please exercise caution if you’re sensitive to these types of things.

He was flying. His wings spread out behind him, feathers catching the wind and just barely touching the clouds.  
He could feel a storm coming. It was in the humidity of the air, in the way the world held its breath before letting lose. It was in the stillness of the ground while the winds whipped around in the sky with anger.  
He knew he really shouldn’t be flying. But the thrill of flying in a storm was so tempting, the way the air changed, the raindrops beating down, the rush of wind and water and electricity.  
So he flew.  
Grian let his instincts take over, closing his eyes as he glided above the open ocean. He was in the clear- flying between his base, Mumbos base, and the fidget spinner Jevin built. Small islands dotted the area and he did his best to not fly above them lest he fall. He wouldn’t fall. He had been flying for ages. It was in his nature, his muscle memory, he’d be fine. He’s done this before.  
The few hermits with riptide tridents stood eagerly on the cliffs or at their bases, waiting for the rain to fall so they could launch themselves through the air at insane speeds. Mumbo stood at his base, waving as Grian flew by with his own trident at his side, the end digging into the sand of his tropical beach quadrant.  
And then the rain fell, the air filling up with sheets of water lashing at the hermits who took to the skies rapidly, trying their best not to crash into each other. Grian flew higher to get out of the way and laughed at their antics, their whoops of joy and laughter carrying above the noise of the storm and deafening thunder.  
Thunder.  
That wasn’t right. A bolt of lightning hit the top of his base and another roll of thunder tumbled across the sky.  
He felt it before he saw it, crackling electricity in the air with nowhere to go, the land too far away and Grian too close to the clouds. His heart dropped as he could just tell what events were unfolding around him- he couldn’t escape, time pausing as he took in every little detail. He smelled the air fill with ozone before it was replaced with the scent of burning flesh, pain radiating out from his back, through his wings and reaching his fingertips in an instant. The rain glittered like stars, falling from the clouds in heavy drops, vanishing into the choppy waves below. Clouds hung low overhead, or maybe Grian was too close, their oppressive grey trailing down to the earth in wisps of vapour. His world filled with a blinding light, forcing him to shut his eyes against the white.  
Someone was screaming- a horrible sound that tore from their throat, you could hear the tears in their voice, the pain they were experiencing. The kind of scream that you knew would leave the persons throat raw, unable to speak but in low whispers. Grian realised it was him.  
He fell from the sky like a rock, unable to find the energy to fight the overwhelming pain and make his wings beat against the sky. The sudden pressure change filled his vision with black as he fell to the earth. People shouted his name. He didn’t know who. He prayed that he would hit the water, passing out before he could listen for a splash or the sickening crunch of bones.  
—  
Mumbo watched Grian fly through the air, a smile on his lips before the rain fell and he was lost in his own amusement. Storms rarely happened so when they did, everyone stopped what they were doing to have a bit of fun. They had made a game of tag, almost, trying to race after different hermits and tag them before flying away.  
Then he heard Grians scream and he looked up for once, following the limp form of his friend falling like a rock. His sweater had singed holes in it, wings burnt and feathers falling behind him in a morbid trail. No one touched Grian- the electricity still didn’t have anywhere to go and catching Grian was a surefire way to electrocute themselves. Thank god he was above the water, landing with a mighty splash that crackled with electricity before anyone made a move. They watched as Grian was pushed onto a small island by the ocean, as if the world was doing its part to save the builder after what it had done.  
No one did for a moment, then two, then three, before everyone exploded into motion, diving towards the ground to Grians side and crowding his unconscious form as they tried to assess the damage.  
His heart wasn’t beating.  
That was the first thing they had to resolve. The electricity had disrupted the rhythm of his heart, and they had to get it started again. He wasn’t breathing either. He lay there, limp as a corpse, the bruises on his body making him look dead.  
“Get him out of the cold.” Mumbo heard himself say, “His base is closer- someone carry him.” And all of a sudden, they listened. Iskall picked up the builder, careful of his wings, before taking off and making a beeline to Grians skyscraper. The other hermits followed, flying low to avoid more lightning, their fun disrupted as their hearts filled with anxiety for their friend.  
“Someone do CPR.” Another called out, the sound echoing in the spacious room that was littered with shulker boxes, chests, and farms. They crowded around the single bed shoved away in the corner as Grian lay on top of it, his wings folded beneath him.  
A pair of hands started pressing on his chest in a methodical rhythm, another hermit (awkwardly) breathing into the builders mouth every few seconds. Everyone else stood back and let the duo work, biting their nails as they hoped for him to be okay.  
Mumbos mind was racing with “what if’s,” what if Grian didn’t wake up? What if Grian wasn’t okay? What if this wasn’t enough? What if, what if, what if? He felt his heart pound in his chest, found himself choking for air when there was an abundance in the room. The sinking feeling grew in the pit of his stomach, to the point where he felt like he was going to be sick. He couldn’t lose Grian, his friend, the prankster, his friend. He couldn’t lose his friend.  
Because clearly the strike wasn’t enough to send Grian to an early grave, but his heart wasn’t beating, he was essentially dead, but he wasn’t, and if he didn’t wake up what would happen- would he be okay, what even happens to people struck by lightning- would Grian even wake up? what if what if?

“Mumbo? Hey Mumbo you okay dude?” Scar asked softly his voice cutting through the storm of thoughts in his own head, pulling him away from the others, from Grian lying limp on the bed, away from the crowd. It was a bit awkward as Scar had to juggle steering his wheelchair and essentially herding Mumbo, but he managed and let the redstoner curl into a ball on the floor.  
Mumbo felt himself hyperventilating, hot tears were streaming down his face, though he didn’t pay them any heed.  
“It’s gonna be okay. Grian’s gonna be okay.” He said softly. “I can’t promise it, but I just know he’s gonna be okay.” He added, guessing Mumbos next words.  
To which Mumbo surprised him but gulping heavily and opening his mouth before shutting it, unable to vocalise the words he wanted to say. He settled for biting his lip and nodding, arms clutching at his jacket sleeves and crumpling them in his fists.  
“Do you want to stay here for a bit or go back with the others?” Scar offered once Mumbo had calmed down a bit, the frenzied gulps for air slowing down.  
The redstoner broke eye contact, pulling his knees closer to his chest and drew a few shuddering breaths. “Stay here” he wanted to say, but couldn’t make himself speak, his lips moving to form the words but couldn’t find the sounds to make. Mumbo shook his head before resting his chin on his knees once more.  
All the same, Scar seemed to understand and sat with the redstoner in silence as he slowly gathered himself. He sat so that Grian and the crowd of hermits was blocked from Mumbos view, acting as a physical barrier so the redstoner could focus on himself first, calm and steady- it’s okay.  
He didn’t know just how long had passed like that, not saying anything but staying by Mumbos side as he calmed down from his panic.   
“Thank you.” Mumbo said softly, voice nearly a whisper, broken and quiet but undeniably there, spoke the words into existence.  
Scar smiled at Mumbo. “Of course. What are friends for?”  
—  
Doc was above him, wiping sweat from his brow despite the chill that hung in the room. The builder blinked dully, not quite understanding how he got to his base and why everyone was staring at him like he had three heads.  
“What happened?” He said quietly, stammering over the words as they fell from his lips.  
And all the tension in the room vanished, anxious stares and worried eyes gone with a sigh of relief.  
“Oh thank god you’re okay.”  
“Don’t you dare do that again!”  
“You scared us half to death!”  
“Take it easy, love.”  
The hermits erupted into noise, their worry and care filling the room as their voices echoed in the cavernous space.  
“Grian, promise me you’ll never do that again.” Mumbo said softly, his voice somehow carrying over the others. “You nearly died.”  
“I promise, you spoon.” He teased, a small smile on his face as he sat up.  
After confirming that Grian was definitely okay and Not Going To Die the second they left him alone, the hermits slowly trickled out of his base. The storm was long since gone, tridents stored away for another stormy day where they would hopefully have much less drama.  
Grian sighed in relief, bringing his wings around to where he could see them and slowly examined them.  
They were a mess, most of the feathers either missing, singed, or broken. The normally purple hue was burnt to a crisp, the pigment replaced with black ash. Grian sighed and stretched his wings out, holding back a whimper as a few fragile feathers finally fell, the burnt ones crumbling to ash. It was fine- really. Feathers grow back, it was fine, he’d just...be unable to fly for a while.  
Which was probably for the better anyway- he still needed to heal from his copious wounds.  
Grian pulled his sweater over his head and twisted around to see the extent of his bruises, frowning as there was some resistance he wasn’t expecting. His hands went up to feel the back of his neck and were met with the fabric of his undershirt as well as a raised network of skin. Grian flinched in pain as he prodded at the scar, twisting about to try to see the extent of it. He didn’t need to look far- the lichtenberg scar ran from his back to his arms, an angry red standing out from the purple and black bruises.  
“Oh.” He sighed softly. Still sat on the bed, Grian just took a moment for everything to sink in. He had been struck by lightning.  
He had been struck by lighting and nearly died, but he had been struck by lightning and lived. The last bit was the important part, he felt, the fact that he lived.  
And with that, Grian went back to sleep because honestly, he wasn’t going to push himself despite wanting to- Mumbo would throw a fit if he caught Grian building so soon.


	2. Chapter 2

It was night. The moon sat high in the sky, nearly obscured by the clouds that seemed insistent on sticking around, casting a soft glow in the air wherever the light could break through.  
Grian sighed, stretching his arms above his head before wincing in pain. It felt too tight- the scar tissue too taut to achieve the full range of motion he once had. A few hermits had come around to his base since the...incident...making sure he was okay and bringing him food that they had cooked so he’s have something to eat. Which was a smart move, as Grian didn’t exactly have kitchen, much less the energy to make a decent meal. Or ingredients- which is why he tended to stick to golden carrots, truth be told.  
Mumbo was around more often, talking idly to him as he roamed about the spacious room aimlessly. Most of the time, Grian was half asleep as he recovered, lying on his bed in a tangle of blankets. While Mumbos visits felt random, he was grateful for the sound of someone else’s voice filling the air; made him feel less alone. That and well...Grian thought he was plotting on where to stick a sorting system since the redstoner had tripped over chests and shulkers more than once during his meandering.  
He twisted around to see the state of his wings, surprised at how slow they were healing. Angry bruises and red scars still covered his back, his feathers still not grown in, leaving only fuzzy down to keep them warm. Grian sighed and shrugged on his sweater, making plans to go out and get some fresh air. Flying was off the table, so he opted to walk through the nether, closing his eyes as the swirling portal warped him to another dimension.  
The nether hub looked so different from the ground, the map of the world beneath his feet as obsidian portals stuck out of it, banners representing each location hanging haphazardly from the frames. He scanned them all until he found the dollar sign one- the shopping district- and walked over slowly, muscles complaining with a dull ache that he could ignore for now. The heat in the air and the odd pressure that the nether brought made Grian hurry over to the other portal to escape it. It didn’t hurt, per-say, it just felt weird and oppressive, and he wanted to avoid it as much as possible.  
He stumbled out in front of the iTrade, taking a deep breath of the cooler and lighter air with a smile. It was small progress- getting out of his house- but it was progress. He didn’t even really have a plan now that he was here, his diamonds were back at his base, woefully excluded from his ender chest. The builder just wanted some air, to be in an environment that wasn’t his base.  
A few hermits were around, doing some late-night shopping for enchanted books or sand from Grians travelling cart...which he needed to restock soon, now that he thought of it. Though he was sure that the others would forgive him for taking a break given the current circumstances.  
“Hey Impulse!” He called after the redstoner, “What are ya doing?” He added, hurrying up to him before Impulse took off.  
“Oh- hey Grian! Just was restocking the iLootBox machine. What are you doing up and about? Especially so late? It’s nearly midnight dude.”  
“Just wanted some air? I guess.” He shrugged as he winced, pulling scar tissue tight again.  
“You doing okay?” Impulse frowned with worry, tilting his head at the builder.  
Grian shook his head. “Yeah. I mean. I’ve been better, but I’ve been worse as well. I’ll be fine.”  
“Well, if you ever need help, lemme know. I’ll be more than happy to lend a hand. Though I gotta get back to my base and fix up some redstone. Accidentally spilled water on it again.” He explained, taking off with the loud whistle of a firework, leaving Grian to his thoughts.  
The builder was simply content with wandering around the shopping district at night, gazing up at the insane builds that dotted the area. From the ground, you could really appreciate the scare that everything was at- from the towering trident, to the mob-filled Cherry, to the absolute behemoth of a store that Sahara is- well...being forced to walk made it all seem that much larger, that much more impressive. It was insane what the hermits managed to do and he just took the time to appreciate it.  
Eventually, Grian’s feet started complaining from the amount of mindless walking he had been doing, the dull ache back from before, and he resigned himself to curling up inside the pickle shop for shelter until the morning came and it was safe. He didn’t have the energy to make it to the portal, passing out the second he made it to a safe spot.  
Which took a lot of explaining once he woke up, surrounded by a group of very concerned hermits.  
Whoops.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna lie, I wasn’t expecting to add an epilogue but here we are. Hope you like it!


	3. Chapter 3

He couldn’t sleep.  
  
It was natural, of course. The storm brought back memories of the lightning, the smell of electricity, the searing pain, screaming-  
  
No.  
Better to not dwell on it longer than need be. Iskall already had to calm him from a panic attack he had during a previous storm. Deep breaths.  
  
_It’s okay.  
There’s a roof over your head, the lightning can’t get you. It’s okay. You’re safe, nothing can reach you here.  
You’re okay.  
_  
He was lying. He wasn’t 100% okay but, well....he was getting there. Baby steps.  
  
Progress.  
  
He sighed. He’d take what he could get.  
  
Grian sat up in his bed, stretching his arms above his head and smiled softly at the little extra mobility he had. The scars were slowly fading, giving him more range to move. Of course- they’d never fully fade, a reminder of what happened months ago still imprinted on his skin, phantom pains from the lightning making his back ache when a storm was coming. The same way breaking a bone during cold weather made it hurt in the same atmosphere even after it was healed.  
  
At least his wings were healed- the feathers had grown back in, their hue the selfsame vibrant purple that he was used to.  
Grian pulled a wing in front of him, absentmindedly straightening the feathers that were flattened from his fitful sleep. It was calming in its repetition, soothing and methodical, watching the crooked feathers fall back in line with the rest.  
  
All too soon, the task was complete and a small pile of feathers sat at his feet- the ones too broken to be fixed or nearly falling out- and he swept them up and dumped them into a chest to be dealt with later.  
Staring up at the sky, Grian subconsciously looked for the moon to tell him how late it was, though the thick layer of clouds made it impossible, the world sneering at him with a bolt of lightning as if it say “you idiot.”  
  
Grian, being the mature person that he is, stuck his tongue out at the rain clouds.  
  
All the same, he could feel that it was late, the hours when no one else is awake, the world oddly quiet despite the raging storm outside. Grian got up and wandered about his base for lack of anything better to do.  
  
And promptly tripped over a pile of shulker boxes.  
Maybe Mumbo was onto something- he really should get a sorting system.  
  
Sighing, Grian stood up and brushed off imaginary dust from his clothes before continuing on, wandering around his farms and his sad attempt of a sorting system.  
  
In a mostly-empty corner that he had all but forgotten about sat a piano that he didn’t remember putting there. And he’s pretty sure he’d remember sticking a piano in his base- seeing as moving the thing is a whole ordeal, exacerbated by the fact that he lives in the middle of an ocean.  
He frowned and walked up to it, brushing dust off the lid as a small piece of paper fell to the floor.  
  
_Hey Grian,  
Hope you don’t mind the piano that snuck into your base. I thought you might get bored being cooped up in here for a while. Maybe you can pick up a new hobby to pass the time?  
Xisuma  
_  
Grian smiled softly at the gift, wondering just how long it sat there, unnoticed and ignored in the empty corner of his base. Then again, he didn’t really use much of the first floor besides the abomination of chests and shulkers in the one corner that he also slept in. He should have made himself a bedroom.  
  
The bench was pushed under the piano, and he pulled it out and sat down as if it were natural, lifting the lid easily as some dust fell to the floor.  
The keys were pristine, white and black reflecting the flickering lights of a few torches he had sprinkled about- enough to deter mobs from coming in, yet still dim enough that he could sleep peacefully.  
  
He didn’t know how to play a piano, and yet he found himself pressing random keys that sounded good together, filling the night with music- the hesitant kind that came from an amateur tinkering about, more exploring sounds rather than trying to make music.  
It was a thoughtful gift, really. Getting it into his base must have been a challenge- and to do it without him noticing was just downright impressive. Grian was getting bored after all.  
  
Waking up in the middle of the night and not being able to sleep because of storms made for a lot of spare time- and it’s not like he had any major projects going on either.  
He closed his eyes as he kept playing, letting instinct take over, letting his thoughts drift away, and suddenly the melody became a bit more melancholic, like a lullaby that you couldn’t quite remember but loved as a child. All the same, he kept playing, fingers pressing down keys, letting notes that he didn’t know the names of lose into the air in the name of passing time.  
  
It was fine, really. The storm was slowly dying down as the sun slowly rose and pushed the clouds out of the way, the world waking up as Grian kept playing. The music was calming after all. He was okay.  
  
And if Xisuma was doing some shopping before the sun fully rose and heard music coming from Grians base, well that was okay too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok listen- I don’t intend to keep adding to this but who am I to deny midnight thoughts.  
I guess consider this a very slow-updating fic.  
And by slow, I mean like. 3 month breaks at leAST between chapters rIP.


End file.
